


On the Line

by cincoflex, starhawk2005



Category: House M.D.
Genre: F/M, Het, Phone Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:03:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cincoflex/pseuds/cincoflex, https://archiveofourown.org/users/starhawk2005/pseuds/starhawk2005
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House decides to ‘reach out and touch’ Cameron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Line

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: House and Cameron belong to us. Yes. That’s our story and we’re sticking to it.  
> Authors’ Notes: Not spoilery.

Cell phones are useful things.

House made it a point to have the newest model, the most up-to-date version available. The one with every gadget, every timesaving feature on it, even though he seldom used them. It was enough to be able to flash it under Foreman’s envious gaze at times, or use to stall Chase’s fawning interruptions. A cell phone gave him a reason to ignore people, and at the same time observe them. It made for a great excuse to step out of clinic.

And a pretty little jewel-like cell phone made it so easy to reach out, and touch someone.

House liked leaving messages for Wilson; long rambling vents about the latest idiocy at the hospital. He cleverly made sure to insinuate that he had something vital to share, and that it would be at the end of the message, just to force Wilson into listening to all of it.

He also liked leaving heavy breathing and grunting messages for Cuddy, if only to watch her expression when she played them back and erased them. House made a point to mention her name once or twice in a heavy accent, to add to her discomfit and confusion.

And lately, House loved being able to play games with Allison over the phone.

It had started simply. Not innocently; not on his part anyway. He’d simply noticed that she’d come to work without a bra. Not her usual style, and he approved, definitely. It WAS distracting, however, even if neither Foreman nor Chase noticed. House did—he noticed everything related to Allison Cameron. New perfume. More curl to her hair. A change in eye shadow, all of it picked up by his personal radar and filed away. Therefore when she bounced in—literally—it made for the start of a very good morning, as far as he was concerned. 

No bra. Even as he snidely whipped through the differential diagnosis on the whiteboard, a part of his mind grappled with the reason for this bosomy bounty. Those lovely taut and firm beauties unfettered and free—why? Why today? Why now?

Skin irritation? Not likely. She wasn’t scratching or making any body language to show that. Out of clean clothing? No, everything else was fresh and fabric softened, including a lab coat so white it hurt to look at it. Period sensitivity? She wasn’t due to start for another two weeks—

Intriguing. And rather than point out her Lady Commando state and share the wealth with two idiots who’d never fully appreciate it anyway, House decided to ask her directly.

Over the phone.

He waited until the afternoon lull, post lunch, when Chase was on Clinic and Foreman was sitting in on a lecture. Cameron was at his desk, calmly sorting his mail. House had a nice view of her profile through the open shutters as he pulled Wilson’s chair over to the glass wall and peered through the drawn shades. Lab coat off, slender back curved as the thin fabric of her blouse stretched taut over her spine. No bra, and a hint of sweet apple curve . . . House hit the speed dial and watched as she absently fished her phone from her skirt pocket and answered it. “Cameron.”

“Why aren’t you wearing a brassiere today?”

A little breathy pause, and he watched her shoulder curl defensively. “Don’t act like you’re twelve, House.”

“Don’t act like you’re innocent,” he responded firmly. “You are sans lingerie, and I want to know why. I’m a guy; attuned to the finer aspects of female anatomy, so your lapse today is high on my list of Things I Like to Look At. I just want to know if I should thank you.”

“Why? You’d stare either way,” she replied with a grumble, but House noticed she’d shifted a little, squirming in her seat. HIS seat, actually. He smirked—she was self-conscious even when he wasn’t there. Sweeeet.

“True. I consider it my prerogative when two lovely high and firm headlights are demanding my attention. Very distracting of you, Allison. Makes me wonder if this isn’t a ploy of some sort. Is it?”

“A ploy? House, nobody uses a word like ‘ploy’ anymore. It’s archaic. I think what you’re looking for is strategy, or maneuver or plan,” he heard her respond, her tone slightly arch, with a hint of breathlessness in it. He leaned closer to the glass wall and stared across the balcony, drinking in her profile.

Intriguing, indeed. 

“Alright, did you _plan_ to distract me? Is this a _strategy_ to get me to notice your obvious endowments? A maneuver to get my undivided attention?” House whispered into the phone, his voice deliberately lower and huskier than usual, just to see Cameron’s reaction. Another squirm against his seat. He was almost jealous of that lucky cushion and its proximity to certain other female areas of her body.

“Even if I did, what makes you think I would tell you?” she said, her own voice lowering. Yes, she was definitely breathless. Tasty.

“Ooooh, resistance. I guess that means I’ll have to find a way to _motivate_ you to tell me,” he rasped. House watched her squirm again and raise a mildly trembling hand to brush stray strands of hair out of her face. She was certainly putting on a great show already. Could he get her to show more?

He smiled.

“Right,” she retorted predictably, but he could tell her heart wasn’t in it. House wondered if her nipples were straining against her blouse; he couldn’t really tell from his current viewpoint. Damn. “What are you going to do, House?” she went on, a little stronger. “Snark at me a little more than usual? Oh, I’m _terrified_.”

Her sarcastic tone made him grin. He was starting to rub off on her, all right, and he found he didn’t mind it one bit. House upped the ante, just to see what reaction he’d get. “No. You’ve developed some immunity by now, I’m sure. But I’ll bet if I kissed those lovely nipples of yours, right through that über-thin blouse fabric, you’d tell me everything I want to know, and so much more.”

Cameron sat up ramrod-straight at that, turning in her chair to face him – although she didn’t realize it – and gasped loudly into the phone. She then hung up with a bang that echoed sharply in his ear. Damn, damn, and double-damn. He should’ve known that he’d push too far, too fast. Too many months without sex did that to a man, apparently.

He sighed as he hung up his own phone, but continued to watch Allison, which was fortuitous. Otherwise he would’ve missed the way she quickly, lightly, ran her hand down her chest. Over one of the aforementioned nipples, in fact. A touch so fast, any observer in the hallway might not have noticed the self-administered caress, but from his angle, and to his keen eye? Oh yes. 

Maybe it wasn’t over yet. 

 

*~*~*

 

House allowed a full day to pass. Cameron acted as if his phone call never happened, and he went along with it just to add that extra element of surprise when he called her again. 

She hadn’t been bra-less today, but House didn’t let that deter him. He’d seen that caress. That was all he needed to know.

They had a long day and a late night, with a sick but stable patient; House made sure Allison drew the short straw. He pretended to leave, himself, but in fact crept into Wilson’s darkened office, taking up the same post he’d had a day ago. House waited until she was alone in the diagnostic office, in his chair once more.

Things were slightly different this time, though. She was turned at his desk, full-on facing him now. He’d have to be careful and make sure she didn’t realize that she had an audience of one. House hung back in the shadows, and pulled out his cell phone. 

She answered on the second ring with her usual professional tone. “Cameron.”

He launched right into it. “You never answered my question.” House used his low, sultry tone. Anything that would keep her on the line.

“I’m not going to answer it,” she hissed. Carefully House checked her expression through two layers of glass. Yep, she was angry. Flushed quite prettily, in fact. How far down did that flush go? He wondered about that, feeling a definite surge of lust.

“Really? Because I think you wantto tell me. Of course, I think you want _other_ things, too, but we’ll start with that.”

“What- what other things?” The catch in her voice made him grin ferally. Yes indeed, there were possibilities here. 

“Uh-uh, Allison, I asked first. You can’t answer a question with another question,” came his quiet but firm command.

She said nothing, but his keen ears picked up the rapid pace of her breathing. 

“See, the theory I’m going on right now is that you did it because you wanted me to notice. All that soft, bouncy flesh. Those nipples rubbing against your blouse, getting firmer, harder. Just begging me to ‘sit up’, no pun intended, and take notice.”

More silence greeted him on the line except for her rapid breathing. Cameron was motionless in his chair, eyes closed tight, pretty lips parted. The thought of those lips and what they might be able to do to certain regions of his anatomy started to make _his_ breathing speed up, too.

House let a bit of a purr creep into his voice. “I notice you aren’t denying it, Allison. Does that mean I’m _right_? Wow, you gave in quickly.” Unable to resist, he went on, “I didn’t even have to tie you down and ‘torture’ you to get the information.”

Her breath caught again, and he braced himself for a second hang-up, but she laughed low in her throat instead, startling him. “You don’t have the balls, House.”

A little anger stirred in him, but it only fueled the arousal; he liked a bit of a challenge. Made things so much more interesting. “Me, no balls? You’re the one who refused to own up to your own desires.” He watched her intently through the glass, noting the flex of her thighs.

“Like you would bother meeting them,” she snorted over the phone, but the high color in her cheeks and her closed eyes told a different story.

“Oh, but I would,” House purred. “Let’s get back to how I’d get you to talk. I know I didn’t need to use that ploy – excuse me, _strategy_ – but I hate to let a good plan go to waste. Yes, I’d tie you to a chair – maybe my office chair, just for kicks-“ he paused to savor a squirm she made at the sound of his voice.

Jackpot. “-And then I’d touch those sweet little nipples of yours.”

“Bullshit.” she snapped back over the phone. But he could see her traitorous hand creeping up to her neck, then slowly down across the ‘v’ of bare, flushed skin revealed by her blouse. House cursed the presence of her bra today; he’d give anything to see her nipples rearing for attention under the scant cover of that sheer fabric.

“Oh, but I assure you I _would_ , Allison. Even if that wouldn’t get you to talk, it would be worth it just to feel you squirm and moan. I’ll bet you would.”

“Not a chance, House,” she gasped. But there was her hand, creeping down, creeping down.

“Well, I can’t exactly caress you right now, can I? I know they say ‘reach out and touch someone’, but I’m afraid the technology will only take us so far. So you’ll just have to touch yourself _for_ me. That way we can test just whether you squirm and moan or not.”

If her hand hadn’t already been straying to do just that, he suspected she would’ve hung up the phone on him again. But she was already stroking herself right into his clutches, as it were. So House didn’t press her for a reply, he just watched eagerly as her fingertips moved down, circling against a key spot on her blouse. And yes, there it was – the squirming he’d wanted to see.

He tried to control his own breathing, adjusting himself inside his annoyingly too-tight jeans. House almost encouraged her to slide her hand inside her blouse and bra and touch herself directly, but stopped himself. She didn’t know he was watching her, thus he should have no way of knowing what she was doing. He had to be more cunning about it.

Luckily, ‘cunning’ was his middle name.

“Are you touching yourself, Allison?” he asked, putting a caressing note into it. “We can’t go any further with this if you’re not.”

“H-House,” she groaned, and he felt himself stiffening even further. He decided to go for the gold. 

“Very nice. But I wouldn’t be able to keep that up for too long. All that pesky clothing in the way can be annoying. I’d definitely have to undo your blouse and bra, slip my hand inside. See what those taut little buds would feel like, directly against my skin. Don’t you agree?”

Deeper, panting breaths answered him, and he licked his lips as Cameron’s hand worked a few buttons quickly free and slid right into her top. He watched her back arch, her hand making indistinct movements under her clothes. Still, he could make an educated guess that those were squeezing and tugging motions. Yummy.

House marveled at her suddenly lessened inhibitions. Perhaps she hadn’t been as unaffected this whole day as he’d thought. Maybe she’d been unconsciously preparing herself for this? He wasn’t known for his ability to let things go, after all, and she must have known that.

Licking his lips, he watched the show she was unknowingly putting on for him, wishing he could see more. Wanting more.

“Very nice,” he growled. “But you’re still resisting me, aren’t you? You’re stronger than I gave you credit for. Well, we’ll just have to ‘torture’ you some more, won’t we?”

She didn’t answer, just continued teasing herself, eyes closed, body twisting slowly against his chair. When he came in tomorrow, would he be able to smell her scent on it?

House couldn’t take it any more. He let his own hand slide down. A pop of a button and the rasp of a zipper, and he was stroking himself. Slowly. He didn’t want to come too quickly. This was too good not to draw out as long as possible.

“And you know what that means? That means I have to slide that skirt up and out of the way…”

Without even a discernible pause this time, without even further prompting from him, Cameron pinned the phone between her ear and her shoulder, free hand going to her skirt and starting to hike it up. He watched as sensible shoes and beige stay-up stockings were revealed. 

But she was going too slow for him; he wanted to see if the expression ‘pretty in pink’ applied in her case. “Faster,” House growled harshly, “I want to see what you’ve got for me.”

Something in his tone must have put her off; she started as if she was waking from a dream. House watched, viciously annoyed with himself, as her hands jerked away and then started to fumble her clothing back into place. “Allison,” he said, low and sultry, trying to lure her back.

There was only a hollow clunk, then the hum of the empty line as Cameron got up, pacing breathlessly out of the office. For a moment, he thought she’d seen him there in the shadows, and was coming to yell at him. 

But long moments passed and she didn’t appear. No, it seemed only that he’d once again let his impatience get the better of him. House sighed and stuffed himself back into his boxer-briefs and jeans, but he was less annoyed with himself by now. The pattern just might repeat itself, if he waited a day or two and then called her again. House felt sure of it- she’d give in to him that much more easily.

He waited another twenty minutes in the darkened office to ensure that he’d get away. Finally he rose and limped off to the motorcycle that he’d parked a few blocks away from the hospital this morning. A pain – literally – but he hadn’t wanted Cameron to realize he was still on the PPTH premises.

Groaning inwardly, he swung his leg over the bike and found himself musing, randomly, that if she kept hanging up on him, the speed-dialing feature would sure come in handy. Especially since he could use it one-handed…

 

*~*~*

 

For two days House didn’t touch his phone, and kept to his usual routines of griping, sniping and diagnosis. He was careful to spread his sneers among all three doctors, and was extra rude to Cuddy in the cafeteria, just to lull Allison a bit. It seemed to work; she stopped eyeing him suspiciously and turned her attention back to the daily matters of patients and patience.   


Once or twice House caught Allison holding her cell phone, her slender thumb caressing the flip cover gently. He didn’t draw her attention to it though, biding his time until the opportunity was right. It came late in the evening, fitting so perfectly with his plans that House took it as a sign of things to come, literally. Who knew that an accident could work to his advantage?  


Foreman had traded Clinic with Chase who in turn had traded it with Allison, leaving her one of the last doctors on duty for the night. The clinic closed at nine, and her last patient had been an undiapered toddler. House waited patiently in the dressing alcove of the locker room, aware that Allison would be in quickly. He heard her grumbling softly as she pushed her way in and moved to her locker, heels clattering down the tile and around the corner.  


Knowing she was preoccupied, House moved. He stepped out, and carefully opened the door, quietly taping the CLOSED FOR CLEANING—USE 3D FLOOR FACILITIES sign up. As an added precaution he flipped the latchpin on the door’s hinge, locking it shut. Cocking his head he heard the sound of cloth and knew the moment was right. A flip and a press of a speed dial button as House stepped around the wall of sinks, looking carefully at the last mirror.  


It was angled to catch the view down the row of lockers, and yes, Allison Cameron stood there, peeling off her slightly soggy blouse. The stained lab coat was already in the laundry bin. House heard her cell ring, saw her lunge for the little phone and hesitate before scooping it up.  


“House, if this is you I’m not in the mood for your games, all right?”  


“All wrong. How could I miss the chance to chat with you when the Sweethearts of Sigma Chi are about to make an appearance?”  


“What?” he watched her spin around and glance in all directions; prudently he stepped back out of sight behind the wall and laughed softly.   


“I saw you whiz by in a hurry for the locker room so I called the clinic desk. Brenda says your last patient took a one on you—for shame, Allison. If I’d known you were into golden showers---“  


“It’s not funny House, just gross. Fortunately it wasn’t a lot and I’m NOT into urine games so let’s leave it at that.”  


House laughed again, low and quiet, but with a richness to it. “Yes, well frankly, I’m all for whatever gets you out of your blouse.”  


“House—“ her tone was sharper, but he could hear the strangled breathlessness in it too, “This is getting . . . inappropriate. You shouldn’t be talking this way to me.”  


“Really?” he let mock-disappointment tinge his words. “I don’t see why. This isn’t a professional call, or a consultation, Allison. It’s after hours now. Not as if we’re on duty at the moment---no, we’re simply a man and a half-dressed beautiful woman having a very private conversation. An adult conversation . . . “ he trailed off, feeling a hot surge between his thighs at the realization that less than ten feet from him Allison Cameron was taking her clothes off. Carefully he turned and risked a peek at the angled mirror.  


Bingo.  


He could see her long pale back, slender and dainty as she tugged the blouse off and dropped it on the bench behind her. Allison’s bra was a peach satin, with lace panels on it and House could see no hooks along the back. A front hook bra---quietly he bit back a groan.  


“You’re not behaving like an adult—“ she chided him, but her breathing was loud and he heard it over the connection.   


“Au contraire,” he corrected briskly, sliding one hand along his denim-covered thigh in a desperate attempt at self-control. “I’m thinking very adult thoughts at the moment, what with you probably naked, and on the verge of stepping into the shower.”  


“What makes you think I’m going to shower? I might just be getting my spare outfit on—“ she countered, House laughed again.  


“Because you’re not the type to put up with kiddie piddle. So I’m betting you’re going to slip out of your clothes and get clean before you go home. And that makes it the perfect time to consider again that elegant chest of yours.”   


She didn’t speak again, and House waited, throbbing painfully now, aware that she might hang up on him. Then her voice came over the line, a soft little rush of words, like a whisper in his ear. “Why are you so hung up on this? I go bra-less for one day and all of a sudden it’s a big deal? I’m sure you’ve gone commando more times than anyone wants to know.”  


“It’s a big deal because it arouses me, Allison,” he rasped back, his free hand sliding along the bulge of his fly. House had his back pressed to the tile wall and was grateful for the coolness there since everything else on his body felt hot at the moment. “To know that your nipples are scraping against the fabric of your shirt, stiff from the friction, tempting and nippable is enough to keep me from focusing on much else. I want to suck them right through the silk, I want to flick my tongue around them and feel you shiver; bite them lightly and have you clutch my shoulders with those nails of yours while you beg me to do it again. Do I make myself clear?”  


A long whimpering groan came back over the line; a sound that slid into his ear and right down his spine to his turgid dick. House rolled and looked again in the mirror. Allison Allison was breathing heavily, one hand on the cell phone at her ear, the other hand unhooking her bra.

Again, jackpot.

He thanked all the gods of sex when Allison stepped over the bench and sat down, facing the mirror. Good, he’d be able to see _everything_. A private showing; far better than any porn film he could’ve rented.

Allison was stroking herself. The phone once again pinned between her shoulder and her tilted head, she was using both hands to caress herself, pulling gently on both her nipples at the same time; House had to cup his hand over the mouthpiece of his cell phone, groaning as quietly as possible as he watched her pleasuring herself. God, he was going to spontaneously combust for sure.

“Now, where were we last time?” he finally growled into the phone once more. “Oh yes, I was sliding your skirt out of my way. I can’t do all sorts of naughty and delicious things to your helpless body with all that clothing, now can I? I want it out of the way. _Now_.”

House watched hungrily as, eyes squeezed tightly shut, her bare breasts heaving rapidly with her breathing, Allison obeyed him. His hand went to his own fly, pulling the zipper down slowly, in time with the unhurried way she was inching the pretty floral skirt up her legs.

A similar view as before – low-heeled shoes, stay-up stockings (pale grey, this time) – but House wasn’t complaining. On this particular occasion, however, he managed to keep his mouth shut, stroking himself gently through his boxer-briefs as her skirt finally went high enough so he could see her panties reflected in the mirror. Black and lacy. Very nice. Did she wear such underthings all the time? Or had she worn them specially, because of what had been happening between them? An intriguing notion.

He was about to order her to remove her panties, but remembered at the last minute that, again, he wasn’t supposed to be within viewing range. No, he wasn’t supposed to know just how far along in her stripping she was. “Is that skirt up around your waist yet, Allison?” he rasped low in his throat.

“Y- yes,” came her breathy reply.

“Good. Now I want you to stand up – if you’re not already standing – and bend over.” House ordered. He hoped she’d do it facing away from the mirror, so he’d get the full Technicolor experience.

Ah, she was. Excellent. He squeezed himself, biting back another groan, watching intently in the mirror. All lush curves and long legs, shaking slightly. Time to go for the kill. “Your panties,” he commanded. “Slide them off. Slowly.”

House shifted his hand into his boxer-briefs, stroking his cock faster as Allison shimmied slowly out of her lacy undergarment. It fell to the floor and House turned his full attention to admiring her. It was too bad he couldn’t get a close-up view, but it was still a very lovely spectacle. Neatly trimmed, curly pubic hair. Deep pink folds, glistening faintly under the fluorescents. Christ, he was going to lose it. 

“Are your panties out of the way, Allison?” Low, sexy growl; he used it just to watch her delectable legs shiver in response.

“Yes.”

“Excellent. Now we can get down to the _real_ business. The main event.” House paused, letting himself breathe heavily into the phone now. Building the tension; hoping to reduce the chance that she’d bolt this time. First, he wanted a better view of her luscious charms. “Hold yourself open for me.”

A gasp answered him, and he steeled himself for the empty line, but it didn’t happen. Instead, those pale fingers with their lacquered nails came reaching around that luscious ass, sliding hesitantly over the smooth curves, and then reaching between her thighs, spreading herself open. 

House couldn’t help himself. He shuffled forward a step or two, as quietly as possible, to get a better view. And what a view it was. Slick and sensual; the private sweetness of her that he’d fantasized about night after night. All that delicate skin, sticky-wet and swollen and begging to be touched.

An excellent idea, he decided. “Now touch your clit, Allison. Gently. Imagine it’s me, touching you. Rubbing my fingertips against that hot little spot. Using my tongue on you. Sucking on you, even. Tasting every inch of that sweet, salty skin. You’d _enjoy_ that, I’m sure.”

A groan, and she was obeying him, her elegant fingers finding the tasty little nub and teasing it in circles. He groaned himself, moving his own fingertips in correspondingsmall circles under the head of his cock. Sweat trickling down his back, and his thigh was beginning to throb in sympathy with his raging hard-on.

Allison was starting to make little cries into the phone. Squirming against her own hand. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Lie down on the bench. On your back. _Now_ , Allison.” Impatience made his voice even rougher than usual.

“What?” she said, her hand stilling. “How- how do you know I’m anywhere near the ben-“

Busted, but it didn’t matter. Not now. “Fewer questions, Allison,” House snarled. “ _I_ ask the questions.” To his great relief, she obeyed him, laying down on the bench, legs spread wide.

In surprisingly few limping strides, he was at her side. Eyes widening at his sudden appearance, she started to sit up, her face flushing an even brighter red than it was already. “Don’t you dare _move_ ,” he warned her, closing his phone with a snap.

He sat heavily on the bench, between her spread legs. House dug in his pocket for a condom. He hadn’t necessarily expected things to escalate to this level, but he’d figured two days ago that it was best to plan ahead. “Chance favors the prepared mind,” and all that jazz. 

House stripped himself down as much as required. The blazer went, so he wouldn’t overheat. The button-down unbuttoned. His jeans and boxer-briefs tossed aside. Studying her the whole time, admiring her perky breasts, the tight nipples, the flushed skin. He could smell her now, the sweet musk of desperate arousal, could see the moisture glistening on her petals so much more clearly. All his.

A dial tone distracted him, and he realized Allison was still clutching her phone in one hand. He grabbed for it, letting callused fingers caress over hers, and then closed it as well, dropping it behind him into the pile of forgotten clothing.

House rolled the condom onto himself. Stopping to touch her. Caressing over tender curves, over heated expanses of skin. Circling around her nipples, then sliding a hand down to tantalize her clit with a careful application of pressure. She’d had almost a deer-in-the-headlights look a few moments ago, but Allison was back in this with him now, eyes closed, soft sounds coming from her throat, her slender hips pushing urgently against his hand.

He grasped her arms and pulled her into a sitting position, kissing her for the first time and simultaneously guiding her onto him. Delicious. 

House moved, thrusting against her. He didn’t have the patience to go slow, but Allison apparently didn’t, either. She clutched onto him, digging her nails into his shoulders as he’d predicted earlier that she would, grinding herself into him.

When she came, he smothered her cry of his name with an almost brutal kiss, pumping even harder into her, straining. Until the long-denied pleasure finally spilled over, wiping out everything for a few moments – no locker room, no Allison, no thigh pulsing in aching dysynchrony – and there was nothing left to do but give in to it.

House held Allison. Enjoying the feel of her bare breasts pressed against his chest. Enjoying how their bodies seemed to be joined in a haze of heat and sweat, so close and warm that he couldn’t tell where his flesh ended and hers started. Delicious, indeed. Phone sex made for one Hell of a seduction technique, apparently.

Still, there was a pressing matter he needed to turn his attention to. “So, Doctor Cameron, are you going to tell me yet why your bra chose to be absent on that fateful day?” he whispered smugly in her ear.

She was still panting quietly, hands now wrapped around his biceps. “I’m _still_ not telling, House.”

He grinned, and nipped gently at the side of her neck. “Such a resistant subject, after all. I guess we’ll just have to continue the ‘interrogation’. Until you _break_.”

Her breath caught, but there was still a thrillingly defiant tone in her voice when she retorted. “Yeah, good luck with that, House.”

He chuckled evilly, already thinking about new ‘tortures’ he could administer. 

House loved a challenge.

 


End file.
